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"It'll be okay," Marco murmurs in my ear.
One of them reaches out and grabs Marco's arm. "You're not from around here, huh? Tourists gotta pay up. Don't you know that?"
I clutch Marco tighter. The other man is eyeing me like I'm the gelato I just ate. "If you don't want anything to happen to that sweet piece of ass you got, you better listen to my pal."
Marco hasn't moved. He's still as a stone statue. With his attention on the guy clutching him, he speaks in a cool, calm voice. "You're right. I don't want anything to happen to her."
"Good, good," the first guy laughs. "Then you better do what's smart, old man."
"I agree." In a motion so sudden it startles me, Marco punches his elbow into the gut of the man touching him.
The asshole doubles over in pain, gasping for air. Without missing a beat, Marco grabs my hand and pulls me behind him. The other man lunges at us, but Marco is too quick. He dodges the attack and delivers a swift kick to the man's knee, causing him to crumple to the ground in agony.
I watch in shock as Marco takes on the two men with ease. He's like a trained fighter, his moves calculated and precise.
When he’s done the men lay on the ground, moaning in pain, Marco turns to me, his eyes dark and intense. "Are you okay?"
I nod, feeling a mix of fear and arousal coursing through my veins. That was scary but also so, so hot. I’ve never seen anything like it and my body is firing on all cylinders. Marco may be dangerous, but he's also incredibly sexy.
What I just experienced was insane. It's only out of instinct that my legs move, following Marco as he leads us out of the alley. I shoot a final look back at the fallen men.
Marco is much more than meets the eye.
What is he going to reveal next? And how much longer can I contain this intense feeling?
Chapter Four
It's around half past five. Do you know how beautiful Rome looks at that hour? It's enough to make a girl swoon, especially a girl who is walking next to a man like Marco.
"Oh," I gasp, because Ididswoon––or stumbled. My body shifting off balance. Marco braces me, making sure I don't topple to the hard street. It's packed with tourists and dangerous Vespas zooming past that could easily smash into me if I got in their path.
"Filia! What's wrong?" he asks.
"I think I'm over tired." I laugh to take the seriousness out of the moment and try to push away from Marco. The instant I do my knees become custard. "Oh!" Again he catches me, tighter than before.
"You've been on your feet for too long, Filia. Let's get you to the hotel."
"No, no, I want to see more of Rome."
"You need rest." He speaks bluntly, no room for argument. His commanding tone sends a shiver running down my spine and the backs of my thighs. I focus on the intensity of his eyes and know he won't give in. It thrills me.
Sighing, I let him help me down the sidewalk. "Okay, fine."
It's good that he forced my hand; three steps and I can barely walk at all. Marco scoops his big forearm around my middle, lifting me, hauling me with such ease, nearly carrying me but doing it in a subtle way to allow me my dignity. God, he'sstrong.I've always had a weakness for muscular men. Something about the raw power they control gets my body hot.
His fingers grip at my waist where the skin is sensitive, his arm is firm and tense behind me. I feel held and secure, but also helpless, like he could do anything he wanted with me. I just might let him…
As we walk back to the hotel, I can feel Marco's muscles tense and relax under his shirt as he carries me. I try to focus on the city around us, the way the light is starting to fade into oranges and pinks, but all I can think about is the heat radiating off of him. It's like I'm pressed up against a furnace, and I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement.
When we arrive at the hotel, Marco sets me gently on my feet and helps me up to my room. Once inside, I flop down on the bed with a sigh of relief. "Thanks for carrying me back," I say, feeling a little embarrassed for being so weak.
"It was no trouble," Marco says, his eyes scanning my body. "You're beautiful when you're tired."
“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks flush and look down at my hands, noticing how my shirt has lifted just enough to show a little skin. I quickly pull the hem down. “I don't usually look my best when I'm exhausted."
"I bet you’d be beautiful covered in mud."
I stare at him, my jaw open wide. He doesn’t flinch. He’s confident in every compliment he hands out, no hesitation, no time wasted backtracking. It makes me wonder if I’m dizzy from exhaustion or arousal now.
